


Someone Should Be Writing This Stuff Down

by ThroughTheTulips



Series: I don't think that means what you think it means [4]
Category: Stargate Atlantis, Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alien Biology, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Laura doesn't pay attention to detail, M/M, harris is an asshole everywhere it seems, kind of I mean they're aliens, kind of but not really because aliens, transphobic words
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-10
Updated: 2017-02-10
Packaged: 2018-09-23 08:52:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,901
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9648755
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThroughTheTulips/pseuds/ThroughTheTulips
Summary: Laura may think she got the whole story, but it turns out she's bad at paying attention to detail.





	

**Author's Note:**

> In this world, the Stargate program is still a secret. Just so you know. 
> 
> There is also some discussion of Beaconite biology.

Laura leaned back from her laptop. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. Your people were being hunted by the Wraith, so you prayed to the Ancient Gods for help. One of them-”

“Grandmother,” Stiles said around a mouthful of almost-potatoes. He was finishing his second full dinner; apparently Beaconites burned through a lot of calories. “We call her Grandmother. When she heard our ancestors’ prayers, she brought those of us who were left to Beacon for safekeeping.”

“But she knew she’d have to leave eventually,” Laura went on, reading from her notes. “So she tinkered with your genes to make you tougher.”

The tenass shrugged. “I don’t know those words. She put her mark on us for three times three generations, then quickened everyone of bearing age when the other gods came for her. They called it a crime, saving us.”

He sounded sad, like it had happened to him. Derek pushed his dessert in front of Stiles. “I think it’s incredible. You’re incredible.”

Stiles smirked at him and dug into the nearly-brownie. “You’re pretty incredible yourself there, big guy.”

“Gross,” Laura moaned. “Stop making sex faces at my little brother and help me finish my report.”

“Can’t I do both?” He waggled his eyebrows. “Derek can attest to my multi-tasking abilities.”

That brought back memories of gramoret and four days of ridiculously satisfying sex. Derek crossed his legs. “Stiles, as soon as she’s done with this report I can show you our room. Our private room.”

The tenass fumbled his spoon. He gave Derek a wide-eyed look before turning to Laura. “Okay, what else do you need?”

Laura wrinkled her nose but continued. “So you’ve got three, uh, usions. Calessi, like Scott, are stronger and have a large soulform for fighting. Lossalon, like Lydia, have a partially shifted soulform but otherwise function mostly like humans. Tenassi have gramoret and an animal soulform.” She looked up. “Why all the differences? Wouldn’t you have a better chance of surviving if everyone was a caless?”

Derek spoke before Stiles could, excited by the realization. “They wouldn’t always need to fight. Think about it, Laura. If a normal enemy attacked they could fight it off, but the Wraith have superior technology. There’s just no way the Beaconites could always win in a straight fight. If the fertile people can appear to be normal animals the Wraith wouldn’t even glance at them. It’s a fail-safe.”

“And the lossalon are what, a mistake?”

Stiles bristled. “Hey, whoa, none of that. The lossalon are really strong and tough. They don’t have gramoret and they aren’t affected by it. You saw what I was like, I was a menace. Now imagine if our Sheriff and Judges and Keepers kept leaving their posts every time someone smelled good.” He took a long drink. “We need the lossalon for balance. There’s a lot more of them, but they aren’t as fertile. Tenassi are like baby machines.”

That was true enough. Derek touched the scan printout in his pocket, remembering the three tiny shapes curled around each other. It made him dizzy to think about. On impulse he asked, “Will they be like you or me? I mean, will they have soulforms?”

His new husband made a see-sawing gesture. “Probably? I mean all of us who are born to tenassi come out in a tenassi soulform, then shift back after a few hours. It’s easy to tell lossalon because they don’t change again, but for the others we just have to see how their soulforms develop. We won’t really know until they’re older.”

Laura, who’d been frowning at her computer, put out a hand. “Hold up a second, only lossalon can be the Sheriff? Isn’t that kind of sexist?”

Stiles gave her a strange look. “Uh, I mean, the Sheriff has to be impartial. How could a tenass Sheriff or Judge be sure they weren’t taking advantage of their usion? We can’t really help it sometimes.”

“Wow. For people who get touchy about smack-talking other usions you’re pretty set in your gender roles,” she muttered.

“For someone who claims to have taken the cultural sensitivity class you’re pretty judgmental,” Derek shot back, stung. “You’re the one who spent four days talking to them while I was with Stiles. Did they seem sexist to you?”

Laura closed her laptop. “How could I tell? I can’t exactly smell the difference.”

She threw Stiles one more disapproving glare and flounced off. Stiles scowled at his empty plate. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do about my biology.”

Privately Derek thought Laura had a point about gender roles. Even if tenassi smelled irresistible during heat, they could take leave or something. He wasn’t about to argue the point with Stiles, though. “She’ll get over it,” he said instead. “There’s a lot of Earth history where women weren’t allowed to do the same things as men, and she’s a team leader. It’s a sensitive point for her.”

“Aren’t human men and women basically the same?” Stiles asked, confused. “Other than the babies, I mean. You don’t have gramoret or mi-”

“Uh, hey there, Dr. Hale.” They both looked up to see one of the Marines standing at their table, staring at Stiles. She held out a pudding cup. “I thought your, um, friend might want this? To cheer him up?”

Now that Derek noticed, there were more people behind the Marine. Most of the people who’d been in the cafeteria milled around the table looking worried. Stiles blushed, his expression weirdly guilty as he took the pudding cup. “Thanks. I’ve never had one before, I bet it’s great.”

The Marine brightened. “Yeah? Okay, awesome. Um. I’m Shayna if you need anything else or-”

“I brought you this.” Dr. Kelley, one of the botanists, set a small potted plant on the table. “We found it on PX5-856. The flowers smell like jelly beans. I have another in my office, you can have this one.”

Stiles looked like he wanted to crawl under the table. “Wow, you guys have, like, zero resistance,” he muttered under his breath. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, then let it out and smiled around at everyone. It was a great smile, warm and happy, and everyone in range turned towards it like the sun. “Thanks, everyone. You’re all great, this really helped me a lot,” he said sincerely. “I feel so much better now. Derek and I are going to go get me settled in.”

Derek tilted his head, confused, but the tenass’ words seemed to relax the crowd. They wandered back to where they’d come from, chatting and animated like their team had just won the Super bowl. Even Dr. Finstock wore a loopy grin instead of his usual scowl. Stiles sagged against Derek. “Crisis averted. How about you show me our room now?”

That shoved the half-formed question right out of Derek’s mind. He grabbed the pudding and the plant. “This way. Do you need- are there bags or anything I should be carrying?”

“This is the Mating Moon, I can’t have my stuff. You’re supposed to show you can take care of me.” He smirked. “I guess I’ll just have to wear your clothes.”

The idea of Stiles wearing his clothes was deeply appealing- which was insane, all right, because Derek didn’t like sharing anything that touched his skin. If Laura borrowed one of his workout shirts he had to wash it twice before wearing it again. He hated when people handled his hygiene supplies (going through inspection back at Cheyenne Mountain had given him an actual rash). Now here he was fantasizing about Stiles wearing his underwear. Crazy. Love was crazy.

And Derek was in love. With Stiles, who he got to keep forever because they were married.

Finstock wasn’t the only one wearing a loopy grin. Derek put an arm around Stiles, feeling hopeful. “Our room is this way.”

 

Atlantis was no stranger to aliens. Stargate Command had a whole clearance process that limited their Earth access, but otherwise Director Deaton could hire whoever he liked. While most of the Athosians lived on shore, there were several Pegasus galaxy natives who had positions on teams or around base. Derek didn’t expect too much trouble from adding one more to the mix.

He really needed to stop having expectations when it came to Stiles.

 

“Thanks for the concern and all, but you have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Stiles’ annoyed voice outside the lab broke into Derek’s concentration. Another voice, this one oily and condescending, answered it. “I’m just saying, the translators aren’t perfect. It’s easy to get confused in a new language, but that doesn’t change the facts.”

Derek closed his laptop and went to investigate. His husband of just two days stood across the hall, backed into a corner by a tall man in a neat lab coat- Dr. Harris from the chem lab. Stiles had a tray of food in his hands which he seemed to be using to keep Harris at bay. The closed-off expression on his face made Derek’s hackles rise. He stepped forward to put himself between the two men “Dr. Harris, I know your work mainly consists of waiting for machines to do your job for you, but surely you have more important things to do.”

He was no Marine, but Derek knew he had real muscle under his own lab coat. Harris took a hasty step back and covered his nerves with a sneer. “Oh, did I interrupt your… I’m sorry, what mission critical project are you working on?”

It was actually what he thought might be the Atlantean equivalent of an IKEA manual. “Is there a reason you’re harassing my husband instead of working?”

“You mean your wife.”

Derek frowning, looking over his shoulder. Still Stiles. “I mean my husband. This one, right here. I have personally seen his penis, Harris, so-”

Harris crossed his arms. “She’s pregnant. Only women get pregnant, whatever mental disorder she has that makes her think otherwise.”

Never in his entire life had Derek hit another thinking creature, not even when they were captured by Wraith that one time. Right now, though, rage boiled in his gut. It was like a red film had dropped over his eyes. He moved forward without meaning to, making the chemist back up against the wall. “Take it back.”

“Hey, whoa, no need to get feral.” Stiles balanced the tray on one hip and touched Derek’s back. “Come on, big guy, it’s just the micret talking. You’re gonna feel really stupid later. Let’s go have lunch, I have something to tell you.”

The hand on his back felt like an anchor, pulling him back to himself. Suddenly he noticed the people standing around staring, lab techs and Marines and somehow even Scott. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s Kira’s Time of Choice,” the Beaconite explained. He wore a leather pack over one shoulder and a crooked grin. “I told my mom I’d stay with Stiles. Seriously, are we sure you’re not calessi?”

“I checked,” Stiles goosed his husband, making him jump. “Up close and everything, not a sculta to be seen. The Tau-ri are just stupidly sensitive for some reason. I made a woman cry this morning when I wouldn’t take her place in line. Der-bear, put the silly scientist down and come eat with us.”

He rubbed Derek’s back, hand warm and bracing. Derek did feel a little ridiculous now. He unclenched his fists (when had that happened?) and deliberately put his back to Harris. “Yeah. Okay, yeah, let’s go.”

“That’s right, listen to the little woman,” Harris called, braver without two hundred pounds of angry Derek in his face. “You know I’m the alien personnel liaison, I can get her paperwork changed at the SGC.”

Derek started to turn around. Stiles grabbed his arm. “Let it go, Derek. Focus on me, think about me. Don’t you want to feed me some of this… whatever it is?”

He did. Feeding Stiles was now the most important thing he could think of. Derek took the tray to give his hands something non-violent to do.

Which was, of course, when Harris sucker punched him. Hard. Right in the jaw. Derek spun in a half circle but somehow kept his feet. The rage was back, hot and heavy and damn if half the Marines there weren’t growling right along with him. Though a couple of them seemed to be siding with Harris, most were lining up behind Derek like a pack of angry dogs waiting for their cue. Scott sighed, exasperated. “Idiots. Derek, I’m taking Stiles in this room and locking us in. He’s safe, okay?”

From the corner of his eye Derek saw the Beaconites move into the lab, Stiles protesting and Scott ignoring him. The door closed behind them with an audible click.

Chaos descended on the hallway.

 

Twenty minutes, a hasty trip through to Beacon for advice, and an unconventional use of the fire suppression system later all the brawlers were herded into separate medical bays. Derek sat huddled under a blanket, wet and miserable while Director Deaton questioned Lydia. “You didn’t think this was a possibility worth mentioning?”

“I told Laura,” the Beaconite said with a shrug. She had one hand on Derek’s shoulder while Dr. Hale (good old Uncle Peter, who was highly entertained by the whole situation) prepared to stitch a nasty eyebrow gash. Black veins ran up her arms, the side effect of some pain drain thing the Beaconites said was a normal lossal ability. “We did the whole Sun and Moon talk. It’s really not my fault if she wasn’t paying attention.”

Everyone turned to glare at Laura. She crossed her arms. “I already told you I thought it was a metaphor. You kept talking about moon influences and stuff.”

“Yes, well, excuses aside the fact remains that we have a serious problem,” Director Deaton said. “There are eleven people off missions to recover from a fistfight. Dr Harris has four broken facial bones and two cracked ribs. He’s demanding I fire Dr. Hale. How big a problem is this micret going to be?”

“I mean… we have different gates for a reason. It’s only this intense during pregnancy and gramoret, though,” Stiles said meekly. He held Derek’s other hand like he was afraid to let go. “People just want to make tenassi happy and protect them. It's not a big deal when I'm not being attacked by jerky scientists. We work around it pretty easily back home. You guys are just… I mean I’ve never seen so many people respond like this to a strange tenass, you’re really sensitive.”

“He’ll have to wear blockers,” Lydia declared firmly. “I’m sorry, Stiles. There’s nothing else for it.”

The tenass looked unhappy but nodded. “Have Dad send me some, okay? I tried their deodorant here and it is not up to the task.”

It wasn’t going to be enough, Derek thought with creeping despair. A biological issue like this might be enough to make the SGC declare Beacon a biohazardous planet. Even with whatever safeguards they used on Beacon Stiles was going to be sent home. Derek would have to either quit and never go to Earth again or do the long-distance thing, vising whenever Director Deaton would let him. God, he was going to be an absentee father. The kids would grow up maladjusted and get into gangs or weird Beaconite drugs or-

“Not to change the subject, but is there a reason you’re not using the consutus for this? I can fix it if it's broken.”

Distracted, Derek looked at Stiles. “The what?”

“The consutus,” the tenass repeated, waving at a panel on the wall. When they just stared he exchanged an incredulous glance with his friends. “Do you… not know how to use this room?”

Peter set the threaded needle back on his tray. “Are you saying you do?”

“Well… sure.” Stiles pressed something in one of the complex wall designs. The panel popped open to reveal a selection of strange hand-held Ancient devices. “See? They repair small muscle and skin tears. You can do bones under the ossiter. There’s two of them in your back room, and there should be a manual on the inside panel.”

“How do you know that?” Director Deaton asked.

They snickered. “There isn’t much Stiles doesn’t know about Ancient technology,” Scott said confidently. “He’s one of our best engineers. If we didn’t have Danny we would have made Derek move to Beacon, but the Sheriff decided you guys needed Stiles more.”

“You are an engineer,” the director said slowly. “An engineer specializing in Ancient technology, taught by people who were taught by Ancients.”

“What did you think I did back home?” Stiles asked in amusement. “Technology is mostly a tenassi job since machines can’t go nuts over micret. Oh man, is this what you meant, Laura? You thought we all just stayed home and made babies?”

Director Deaton’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses. “Would you excuse me, please? I have a call to make. Dr. Hale, don’t worry about the firing. We’ll chalk this up to a minor diplomatic incident, hmm?” His voice had the complete lack of emotion that meant he was wildly excited. Derek took his first real breath in half an hour as the man practically skipped out.

Maybe they weren’t getting deported after all.

 


End file.
